


Big Boy, a Love Story

by pr_squared



Category: No Fandom
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Pony Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-20 15:35:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 21,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21284051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr_squared/pseuds/pr_squared
Summary: Zachary Higgins is reborn as a pony
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

Zack had already heard the rumors more than once and had dismissed them out of hand each time. Urban legends, he had snorted in utter disbelief. Every season, it was said, a football player or sometimes even two disappeared from the visiting teams after their game against Rocky Mountain State. He couldn’t help but laugh. Somehow, the alleged victim was never a well-known player or even a named player whom anyone remembered specifically, football fan or no. 

Beth Prescott, one of the cutest cheerleaders, had seemed sincerely concerned when she eagerly told him the oft-repeated story just as if he had never heard it. Everyone had already heard it, even Zack, a big, dumb defensive tackle. Still, he just loved to watch her animated face when she talked and inhale the fragrance of her perfume. She seemed truly concerned. Cheerleaders rarely even talked to defensive linemen and he really appreciated the unexpected female attention, but he would be damned if he would hide out in his hotel room like some frightened little girl after the great game he had played that afternoon. The coach had finally given him a chance and he was sure that he had finally earned himself a spot on the starting line-up. 

“Well, at least you’ve been warned,” she concluded gravely, when she failed to elicit much of a reaction. 

Beth was so tiny; Zack thought, he should be the one protecting her. Her sincere concern for him seemed ironic. Perhaps, he allowed, the disappearances, even if they were real, weren’t so mysterious after all. Rather than anything so terrible, someone in danger of losing his eligibility and his scholarship – that’s what they insisted on calling the money paid to athletes to play football - had just decided to split and go home. Many students drop out of school and just disappear. Hell, his own grades were none too great and if his sociology paper bombed, he might lose his eligibility and his scholarship as well. What would he do then? What would he say to the Coach? What would he say to his parents? Hell, he might just disappear himself. 

Beth listened carefully as he tried to re-assure her. She nodded her head doubtfully at his points. The expression of worry on her beautifully formed face relaxed only slightly despite his confidence and comforting explanations. “You know, Zachary, you may be right,” she finally admitted, “but I’m still worried. They never find the body.” 

Beth seemed honestly concerned about him. Her perfume filled his head. He always knew her by her perfume. Zack took little pleasure in his verbal victory. He wished that Beth and he could just go on talking. He would love to fuck her. Hell, he would love even to hold her hand. Somehow, somewhere, he found the courage, and he asked her to go out with him that night. 

“Oh, Zachary, I’m so sorry. Some other time, perhaps? You should have really asked me sooner,” she said with sincere regret and apparent concern for his feelings.

She always called him “Zachary” or at least the few times she spoke to him. Everyone else called him Zack. 

“I’ve already made other plans, Zachary. I’m going to spend the night up at my Aunt’s ranch, way up in the hills, and do some riding tomorrow. The trails there are outstanding. You should see the mountains for yourself someday.” Her Aunt was some sort of a doctor and owned a ranch way back in the mountains. She had spoken of her before. 

Beth seemed so small. “You’re so petite,” Zack said, searching for the right word. Horses are so big and dangerous. How can you control a huge stallion?” 

“Well, Zachary. Thank you for your concern.” Her change in tone told him that he had said exactly the wrong thing in questioning her competence. “But I’ve ridden for years and I can take care of myself, thank you very much. I usually ride geldings - a stallion is rarely worth the extra bother - but geldings or stallions, you just have to show your mount who’s the girl in charge. Anyway, Zachary, you just take care of yourself.” 

Zack knew that he had said the wrong thing and soured the mood. With her casual mention of geldings in her sweet feminine voice, he felt his balls try to climb back up and hide in his belly. He knew exactly what a gelding was. He was 6 feet, 6 inches tall, 250 pounds and all muscle. Even his head, he was the first to joke in his self-depreciating manner but he wasn’t totally stupid. All too often, he admitted to himself, he felt dumb and clumsy, especially around girls, but very little really frightened him. If Beth weren’t available, he would go out and party anyway. There were other girls and he might even get lucky. He snorted at his eternal, often disappointed optimism.  



	2. Chapter 2

He first saw her sitting at the bar. Zack fought through his usual indecisiveness, then grabbed his beer and stood up. She was blond and beyond cute - really hot. She looked to be a year or two older than his twenty years. He took one step in her direction and she looked right at him. Something in her eyes told him that she just might not rebuff his approach out of hand. In any event, he was well used to rejection and one more rejection wouldn’t matter in the morning. 

Her name was Sally, she said, Sally Jones, sliding her fashionable sunglasses half-way down her nose and making eye contact in the dimly lit bar. Her eyes were cornflower blue. She was petite like Beth. Her hair was short but she was a blonde where Beth was a brunette. 

“You look like a football player,” she said. Her ineluctable, very desirable female presence quickly befuddled him and made it hard for him to think. Somehow, her feminine essence called to his masculinity on some level that did not require words. With her, talk was just a camouflage for a much more significant unspoken exchange. 

Zack swallowed hard and nodded, “Yes. I play for the U. How did you know?” He prayed that his discomfort was not too obvious. “Did you see the game? We won!” 

“Ugh! I never watch games, they’re boring and I really don’t understand them. I do watch the boys, though. Maybe your sweatshirt gave you away. Maybe your feet – you just don’t look like my image of the captain of the chess team.” 

She stopped for a moment and Zack tried to keep up the banter but the words wouldn’t leave his mouth.

Sally came to his rescue. “Hey, it’s awfully noisy here. Let’s go somewhere quieter and talk,” she offered quickly. “Some friends are having a party.” 

His face showed a definite willingness but Sally sensed some hesitation. 

“I’ll drive, if you don’t have a car.” She jumped in and rescued him gracefully.

Zack nodded, great. He had come up on the team bus and had no car. He felt embarrassed like a high school boy driving his dad’s too practical, ten-year-old sedan. 

Apparently, laughing at her own folly, Sally described her aversion to paying for parking as they walked past the valet and then four blocks off the main drag, back into a quiet residential neighborhood to her car. The passenger side seat of the two-seater hardly slid back far enough for Zack to be comfortable. He wondered how a girl – apparently a student like himself found the money to buy a car like this. Rich parents? 

Two hours later, Sally returned to the bar - alone. “Where’s your football hottie?” someone asked her. 

Emily Bryant, Beth’s friend was there with another friend, Marissa Knight. She chucjkled to hear someone describe old Zack as a hottie. “Didn’t I see you with Zack tonight?” she asked. 

“Yes, Zack. Your cute friend Zack and I went to a party,” Sally admitted. “He was still high from the game today – you guys beat us – thrashed us really - and had he had drunk some too. He’s really a hottie– your friend Zack. At first at least, he was so shy and cute.”

“If you like’em that big brawny,” Emily said. “Can you imagine him lying on top of you. Ugh!” She looked around furtively and whispered, “They say that too many male hormones make their balls shrink.” 

Sally wrinkled up her nose. “Well, no one was lying on top of anyone and I never got to meet his testicles. We had just hooked up and he was a bit too fast and too insistent, if you know what I mean. He’s hot but give a girl a chance to get into the mood.” 

Emily nodded her head. She knew exactly what Sally was talking about. She had been there herself – more than once. Still, she more than a bit surprised. She knew Zack and he had never been like that. Perhaps, he had had too much to drink. Perhaps he was different away from campus with people who didn’t know him and whom he would never see again. “Old Zack. I didn’t know he had it in him,” she commiserated. In the end, sisterhood won out over school loyalty. “You never know exactly what they’re going to do.” 

“Zack’s our friend,” said Marissa with empathy. However, she had also been in similar circumstances herself. “He’s usually not like that, not at all. I wonder what got into him. I bet he’s sobered up and he’s really ashamed of himself.” 

“We’ve all made mistakes,” Sally allowed generously. “Let’s just say that Zack may have had quite an evening had he been just a bit more patient.” She rolled her eyes. 

Emily and Marissa both laughed.


	3. Chapter 3

Zack woke up still groggy with a pounding headache. His throat burned. His hands hurt. He couldn’t remember what manner of dog piss he had drunk in the car but the world still obstinately refused to come into focus. He opened his eyes slowly. The room was dark except for a red flashing “Exit” sign that flashed almost painfully. He struggled to piece the rough fragments of his roiling memories into a coherent whole. He had been going to some sort of party with this new girl, Sally. They had stopped at a liquor store. Sally gave him a fifty and sent him in to buy a case of wine coolers and a case of beer. She had popped the tiny trunk and he had stowed the two cases. He had squeezed back into the car and she was drinking something from a flask. She gave him a taste. It tasted like dog piss and he sputtered. Sally had laughed at his grotesque face. She had teased him and he had finished off the damned flask on a dare. The taste had never improved.  
That’s all he could recall. Where was Sally now? He remembered her laugh still.  
Where in hell was he now? Wherever he was, he was cold. He was naked. Where were his clothes? He tried to remember what had happened, but he couldn’t assemble the vivid but disconnected fragments of images that bubbled out of his garbled brain. Had he shagged Sally? She was a real hottie. He remembered that. He just hoped that she had enjoyed getting it as much as he had enjoyed giving it to her. Or had she just given him a blowjob? Or had they done anything at all?  
Where was he now? He was on some sort of metal gurney in an antiseptic-smelling hospital-like room. He tried to raise his arms and discovered that he was strapped down. Had someone taken him to the hospital drunk? What if his Coach found out? His head hurt; his nose hurt too. His hands were bandaged. What the fuck had happened to him? He lifted his head. Something cold pressed against his upper lip. A metal ring passed through his nose – like the ring on a bull. He snorted bull-like in derision. Had he gone and gotten himself stinking drunk, then gone for a piercing? Why hadn’t someone stopped him? Where was Sally – that was her name? What time was the bus ride back to the ‘U?’ He dreaded seeing the grade on his sociology paper. Flashes of thoughts and fragments of images jumped around his brain and never stopped for more than an instant. Memories and fantasies appeared and disappeared - all seemed equally real or unreal. Mercifully, he just fell back to sleep.  
He woke again and now blinding light streamed into the room. He was still naked, strapped to the gurney, but his mind was clearer. He was cold and shivering. He didn’t know the day - whether it was Sunday or Monday or Tuesday?   
A thick metal ring pierced his nose and rested on his upper lip. His upper lip was sore. He felt a scab when he touched it with his tongue. His throat still burned dully. His wrists were cuffed to a chain that circled his waist. His bandaged hands ached. His penis burned too. He had to pee terribly. He lifted his head a few inches and saw that his penis was ringed, just like his nose.  
He rocked the gurney but stopped just before it toppled over with him strapped securely to it.  
Suddenly, a female figure appeared beside him – Sally! She wore battered blue jeans and a tank top. Her name tag said Sally. “My word, you’re a big one!” she said with a smile that bordered on kindly. Nothing in this bizarre scene seemed to surprise her!   
“Do you have to pee?”  
Zack opened his mouth to answer, but he could only make a hoarse braying sound. His throat burned terribly.  
Sally pressed firmly on his belly, just above his pubic bone. His sex lay exposed, just below her manicured hand. His distress increased and he brayed again in desperation.  
She laughed. “I’ll take that for a yes.”   
She didn’t seem at all bothered by his nudity. Zack thought that any woman would be unsettled or even intimidated by a grown man’s mere threat to expose his male paraphernalia, let alone this blatantly naked display.   
Mischievously, she ran her finger down the inside of his thigh. She lifted his cock gently and inserted him into a fat-necked bottle. “Two choices. You can pee in the bottle or I can cath you. It’s up to you,” she concluded matter of fact. She looked more like a stable hand than a nurse.  
Zack did nothing until she showed him the catheter. Still disoriented but painfully humiliated, and perhaps even a bit frightened, Zack peed into the proffered bottle and the red color startled him.  
“Don’t worry, the Sally chuckled, seeing his alarm. “That’s just pyridium – pain medicine - so your piss doesn’t burn.” She let him finish and daintily shook off the last drops. “You’re really a big one.” Her amused tone hadn’t changed. “Time to get you off that gurney.”   
Zack tried to speak again but did no better this time. His throat burned.  
“I really don’t want any trouble from you, big boy.” He was a large one. She clipped a lead to his nose ring and he winced from the pain. She undid the belt across his chest, freeing his upper body. She undid the belt that secured his legs to the gurney. “Now swing your legs over the side and sit up - slowly.”   
Zack swung his legs over the side and slowly sat up. Light-headedness came and passed. His wrists were still secured to a chain that circled his waist.  
Zack tried to make heads or tails of things. Was he some sort of hostage – a kidnap victim – though he couldn’t imagine who might pay his ransom. This Sally was a foot shorter than he and likely didn’t weight a half what he weighed. Anyway, she was only a girl and the door to the room was open and only ten feet behind her. He saw no obvious weapon and she had no visible accomplices  
“Now stand! Take it slow – real slow. Easy, easy now.” She stood by his side to steady him and held a leash attached to his nose ring.  
With no warning – he hoped –he pushed off the gurney and burst for the door - and freedom. The gurney toppled over behind him with a metallic crash. He ripped the lead from the startled girl’s hand. His nose hurt like stink! However, he hadn’t gone two steps when he tripped over the chain that hobbled his ankles and fell heavily on his face. With his arms restrained, he could not break the fall and the pain was yet more terrible.  
Sally was on him in flash. “Cock sucker! You’ll hurt yourself,” she said, not without a certain hint of compassion. “Now stand up, big boy, slowly and carefully. Let me help you,” she offered kindly. “I don’t want you injuring yourself. We’ve made quite an investment in you.”  
She retrieved up his lead and helped him struggle to his feet. He was obviously too large to carry and she really didn’t want to call for help. She led him stumbling down the hallway and through the two sets of double doors that separated the infirmary from the rest of the facility. She steadied him as he walked with tiny steps, limited by his hobble. She noticed that he accepted her help readily and smiled. This was the first step. This was his first surrender. Finally, she ushered him into a cell, a stall really. She clipped his nose-lead to a ring set high on the wall, turned, well beyond the reach of his shackled hands, and left, locking the lower half door behind her.  
Alone and locked in the stall, Zack stood on the clean straw and struggled to calm himself. They can’t do this to me, he thought. Somehow, they had. He breathed slowly and deliberately and took thorough stock of his situation. He was naked, though that seemed to bother no one except him. A two-inch metal ring pierced his nose and a matching one-inch rings pierced the glans of his cock and his navel. The underside of his upper lip hurt. His throat hurt and he could not talk. His hands hurt ferociously under his bandages. He was hungry and thirsty. He could not remember when he last had eaten or drunk.   
Morning light streamed through tiny window set high in the back wall but provided only meager illumination. The red light of a surveillance camera glowed softly. His cell was bare except for a metal bucket in one corner, some sort of water trough set in one wall on a low table. His wrists were shackled to a chain that circled his waist. His ankles were hobbled. The ring in his nose was connected to a ring set solidly in the cinder block wall. He could not reach the ring with his shackled arms. His bandaged hands could not unfasten the lead, even if he could reach it. The lead was a metal chain and he could never break it or chew through it. The slack gave him some leeway, however. He could sit or lie on the straw covered floor. He could peer out over the half door into the space beyond. He was thirsty. Somehow, he knelt awkwardly and drank.  
The day passed slowly. His gnawing hunger grew. Another girl – her name tag read Hannah brought him food in a bowl. No one thought to tell him her name. No one thinks to introduce herself to livestock, he scoffed bitterly. He ate from the bowl like an animal; he could not use his hands. His water trough filled itself. In the evening, she brought him food again and wiped his mouth with a wet cloth. She wrinkled her nose in distaste and emptied his slop bucket. 

“Let me go!” he demanded but the braying sounds that emerged from his mouth defied comprehension and no one seemed to pay any attention to his unintelligible utterances. “You can’t do this to me.” His throat burned. No one argued with him. They just did it. 

A second day passed and then a third. The routine never changed. Twice a day, a girl opened the door to his stall and placed a bowl on a low stand. One did not introduce oneself to livestock but their name tags said Hannah, Eliśka, or Jenny. The three were all petite. Hannah had ginger hair and green eyes; Eliśka had darker hair, eyes, and complexion. Jenny lighter brown hair and eyes.  
Twice a day, he knelt and ate the bland, filling gruel that satisfied his appetite but left him craving anything sweet, salty, or spicy. The girl always carried a damp towel to wipe his mouth when he had finished eating. She brushed his teeth nightly after his evening meal. 

Zack had many mind-numbing hours to brood alone in his cell. His body healed. At first, he thought of escape but he found no opportunity to escape his restraints or his confinement. Then he thought to refuse to eat. He would starve himself to death. He would be of no use to them dead. Yes! That would be his escape. That is how he would win his hard-won freedom! 

When he refused to eat, no one not argued with him. They did not threaten him. They did not beat him. They just waited. He was not the first male they had had broken. 

Inexorably, hunger and boredom conspired to undermine his resolve – boredom more than hunger. A clever new plan gradually formed in his mind. Yes, he would feign cooperation, he convinced himself with increasing fervor, and gain the confidence of his keepers. They would become complacent and then he might escape. He needed to eat, if only to keep his strength, he told himself. If he only waited patiently and pretended to cooperate, his chance would eventually come. Given the chance, he would seize one of the girls and demand his freedom. 

He wondered what their response might be to such a demand. His chance was long in coming, though. His wrists were secured to the chain that circled his waist. His ankles were hobbled. He could walk only in small, awkward steps. The lead fastened to his nose ring was always secured to something unmovable. He must be patient and wait, he told himself. This was his second surrender and made his subsequent capitulations yet easier. 

Someone or something watched him all the time. He had no even pretense of privacy in his stall. At night, he lay under a surveillance camera. It’s red operating light glowed eerily in the darkness. It watched him urinate. It watched him squat over the slop bucket and defecate. No bodily function was too private or personal for others’ peering eyes. He began to wonder if they might see right into his traitorous mind.  
The stalls to either side of his were empty. From time to time he saw other men, large men, but one larger than he, being led about naked by casually dressed young women who looked to the world like grooms or exercise girls in a riding stable. Once he saw several young women dragging a frantically resisting male somewhere in high good spirits. The male brayed frantically, but he was overcome handily despite his obvious size and strength. He saw other men saddled and being ridden like animals. Once, he caught a one’s man’s eye and the man stared back at him with resigned sadness. Zack would never allow himself to be ridden. He tried to call out to get his attention but he could only bray. He never saw a clothed man or naked female.  
Vivid images of his old life still troubled his dreams. However, alone in his stall, the days and nights passed slowly. He came to welcome the visits of the girls who brought him food and interrupted the mind crushing loneliness and boredom. In the dark, lonely nights, he dreamed of his life before his kidnapping. In the hours between sleep and wakefulness, he carefully plotted his escape and his bitter revenge.   
Days crawled by. Twice each day, they brought him food. The pain in his nose, lip, hands, throat, and penis diminished and he slept better. His throat healed but he could make no sound except for a moan and a hoarse braying noise. Sometimes, he turned in his sleep and pulled painfully on his still tender nose. Something like two weeks passed.


	4. Chapter 4

One evening, he awoke from a nap to a sudden tug on his nose ring and opened his eyes to see Sally and Hannah in the fading light of dusk. He climbed unsteadily to his feet. He was as rank as their boots. He hadn’t washed since his capture. Sally patted his cheek affectionately, then unfastened his lead. She led him stumbling from the stall. The hobble severely limited his gait. He was hunched over at waist because of the disparity in their heights and her strong pull on his nose ring. The sharp pressure on his nose ring was still agony.  
They entered some sort of workroom – a grooming shed. The walls were lined with shelves and counters. Below the counters were numberless drawers. A drain sat centered in the floor. He saw a sturdy wooden contraption with an upright post and a cross piece that he later learned was a grooming stand. He saw various salves and implements laid out ready for use.

Sally tugged on his nose ring and secured it to the upright of the grooming stand. He stood, bent about 45o at the waist. With a click, Hannah fastened his right ankle to a stay set in the floor; then she secured his left ankle and freed him from his hobble. Sally freed his right wrist, then took it in both hands. 

This is my chance, Zack thought. He ripped it from her grasp and flailed it around. Sally cursed and jumped back out of his reach. Zack allowed himself a small smile of triumph. He tried to free himself from the stand with his bandaged hand to no avail. He bellowed his frustration. Hands on hips, Hannah stood and laughed at his abject failure.  
Sally returned with her whip. She hit him. No one had hit him in years. She hit him once and again and again. She lashed his buttocks and thighs relentlessly. She lacked nothing in strength and knew well that rigor was truly a kindness. A correction too mildly delivered, need too often be repeated. She lashed him again and again.

Zack screamed his defiance. He pulled at his restraints. The sturdy grooming stand groaned but held. He writhed in his restraints. Secured at the nose and both ankles, Zack could not escape her whip. The whipping continued. Hurt and exhausted, his screams became whimpers. He made pitiful animal sounds. He resisted as long as he was able but in the end, he lifted his right wrist to the cross piece himself. The whipping ceased.   
Sally secured his right wrist. She freed his left wrist and just waited while he lifted it to the crosspiece. She secured it and removed the chain that circled his waist. He hung naked, spread-eagle, and helpless on the grooming stand.   
She ran her finger from the base of his neck to his tailbone to show her mastery and his helplessness. She stroked his bare belly. She removed his bandages and inspected his hands. He was already well healed. With no thumb or index finger, his hands looked odd. “See, not so bad,” she shook her head and reassured him. 

A blast of frigid water hit him. He jerked away, and then jerked again when the pull on his nose ring shot waves of intense pain through his face and head. Sally and Hannah pulled on terrycloth mitts like you might wear to wash a car and set about washing him from head to toe. Zack held motionless  
.   
Hannah stood on a low stepstool and washed his hair, the soaped up his unshaven face, and then soaped up the rest of his body, unwashed for a full week.   
Caitlin poked the nozzle between his brawny buttocks and washed the matted filth between his ass cheeks with no more than good natured aversion. “Can’t let you get this filthy again, big guy,” she said cheerfully.  
Zack tried to pull away well as he was able when she inserted the rolled-up corner of a wet washcloth into his rectum. He tried to expel it, but she held it in firmly until he stopped trying. She cleaned his genitals gently but with a casual familiarity.  
A mercilessly stiff brushing followed the soap. Next, Hannah shaved his head except for a three-inch stripe, front to back. She sheared his scraggily beard to an even quarter inch length. When she rinsed him with off with unbearably cold water, she left him completely depilated, hairless, except for the closely cropped beard on his face and the stripe of hair on his head.   
Chattering away, Caitlin spread his buttocks and Hannah applied the hot wax and cloth strips to remove any hairs remaining around his anus. Zach was too apprehensive to pay much attention to what they said. The wax hardened quickly. Zack squealed when Hannah ripped the away the strips. The girls laughed again. 

They dried him off with coarse terrycloth towels. The towels felt good and he actually felt good to be clean again. 

Next, Hannah put on fresh gloves and covered him with some sort fragrant liniment containing moisturizer, sun block, and insect repellent. His cock and balls were slick with her ministrations and tumescent. She just ignored his reaction and went about her work methodically. Her strong hands felt good on his body. The ring on his glans was fastened to his navel ring, exposing his ball sac underneath.

They fitted him for his security harness. They circled his neck with a one-inch collar. Two cuffs were attached with about a foot of chain. One at a time, Hannah secured his wrists in his new harness. She replaced his hobble, then freed his ankles from the stays in the floor. Finally, she snapped a lead to his nose ring and freed him from the stand. She led him stumbling but clean back to his stall. The straw had been changed.

His routine changed. Now he was groomed every second day. His face and head were sheared weekly. He was kept hair free below his neck. After the irritation of the waxing passed, his anus was bleached.


	5. Chapter 5

In the morning, he was roused and fed. He was taken to an area that smelled like a latrine. He squatted to defecate. Hannah waited impatiently for him to add his contribution and then led him to a paddock. Training would begin.

Hannah passed his lead to Sally – the damned blond Sally who had begun his torment. She wore jeans and a T-shirt today.

His anger returned but he was helpless in his harness and hobble,

“Thanks, Hannah,” she said and turned to him. “Remember me sweetie,” she smiled. “Heel!” 

At first, he had just stood there, stupidly. 

She slapped him across his face with the free end of the lead. “Heel,” Sally barked in her best command voice and tugged sharply on the lead. She hated to repeat herself.

Zack, more confused than defiant, still didn’t move at all until a quirt bit into his bare rump. He lurched forward with a jump in the appropriate direction. He looked behind him and saw that Hannah followed behind him with her quirt to correct any misbehavior. Sally led him around the corral twice, then out the gate and around back into the corral. He stumbled after her, his ankles hobbled. Hannah grinned ear to ear.

Hannah and Sally traded places. Hannah led and Sally followed. Now Sally could see why Hannah had been smiling. The male had a really great ass, high and tight. His brawny muscles really jumped on the regular occasions that she had to wield the lash. Strong thighs and buttocks were the foundation of a good mount. 

Zack had no fondness for pain and quickly learned what they required. He had his plan. He would feign cooperation, he reassured himself, and lull them into complacence. He was quite pleased with his cleverness. He obeyed and painful corrections became fewer and fewer.  
They led, and he learned to follow, not to crowd and not to fall too far back. A sharp yank on his nose lead kept him from straying too far back. A sharp bite from the whip warned him when he approached too near. After an hour or so, he was taken back to his stall and left alone to brood on his fate.

The next morning, he knew better what was expected and avoided many painful corrections. A second session followed in the afternoon. Zack stood beside a second man, almost as large as he. Like Zack, his hair was trimmed into the thick stripe. Straps surrounded his head and face and head, forming some sort of bridle. His head was wrapped in some sort of bridle that held a bit in place. The man’s harness was identical to his but unlike Zack, he was not hobbled. He carried some sort of saddle. Apparently, he allowed them to ride him like an animal. The ring on his cock was attached to the ring on his navel, lifting his cock and exposing his empty ball sac. His feet were shoed in sturdy boots ending in hooves. He looked at Zack with sad eyes. They called him Lucky.  
Sally nodded to Jenny who held the other’s lead. She petite like Hannah ; she had dark brown eyes, and short, brown hair. She was dressed much the same in jeans and T-shirt. Eliśka stood behind him.  
Jenny barked a command, “Lucky, kneel!” The other male dropped promptly to his knees. 

“Mount!”

Lucky raised his left leg so that his foot was planted and his left thigh was parallel to the ground. Jenny took his bridle in her left hand and stepped up on his brawny thigh. She swung her right leg over and settled herself in his saddle. She planted her feet in the stirrups.   
“Up!” she commanded. He rose gracefully to his feet. “Good boy, Lucky!” Jenny stroked his cheek fondly and turned to look at Zack.   
Zack looked at the eunuch with disdain. He had let them take his balls. He let them ride him like an animal. He would never accept a rider on his back, he swore. He would die first!  
Jenny snapped her heels against the Lucky’s flanks and he started forward at a walk. She kicked him again and he burst into a trot. 

Sally smiled. “Your turn,” she told Zack. “Kneel!”

Zack hesitated and he felt Eliśka’s lash. Zack knelt. Eliśka removed his hobble. Sally held the lead attached to his nose ring.

“Mount!” Sally raised her whip.

Zack quickly raised his left leg so that his foot was planted and his left thigh was parallel to the ground as the other had done. He cringed, expecting her whip. He waited but nothing happened.

“Up!”

Zack stood awkwardly. His ankles were free! This was his chance! He started to turn to run away.

Sally held his lead in her left hand. When he pulled away, she was ready for him. She yanked back hard on his nose ring and the pain was unbearable. Zack fell to the ground. Males are always physically stronger than their riders, but a woman’s intelligence, focus, and persistence can make up for male size and brute strength. Nose burning, he fell to the ground. He had no enthusiasm for pain.

“Let’s start again. Kneel!” Her annoyance was obvious.

Zack shook his head to clear the pain but rose laboriously to his knees. In this position, he might be safely hobbled. He could not kick or flee. The harness retrained his mutilated hands to make them fully useless.  
“Mount.” He planted his left foot with his left thigh parallel to the ground. He looked at Sally expectantly. She smiled and nodded her approval.

“Up!” He stood and this time, he did not attempt to flee.

“Kneel.” He knelt.

“Mount.” Zack planted his left foot with his left thigh parallel to the ground as Lucky had done.

“Up.” He stood.

“Kneel!” He knelt. Sally cycled through the commands repeatedly, kneel, mount and up. Zack complied with increasing deftness.

“Kneel!” Zack knelt.

“Mount.” Zack planted his left foot with his left thigh parallel to the ground.

“Up.” He stood, once again. Zack knew the simple commands. It all seemed so stupid but yet they persisted.

“Mount.” Zack planted his left foot with his left thigh parallel to the ground, again

“Kneel.” He knelt, again.

“Mount” Zack felt silly but he complied. Sally smiled.

So it went. After an hour, Zack knelt and Sally replaced his hobble. She led him stumbling back to his stall. He had learned to heel. He had begun to learn the basic commands. He followed her at a proper distance but he brooded, my time will come. Vividly, he imagined his bitter revenge!


	6. Chapter 6

Nothing that was asked of him was too hard. The worst part was the utter boredom. He spent endless, lonely hours alone in his stall. He suffered humiliation too. They paraded him naked daily on full display for all these women who saw him as no more than a beast. An animal might be unclothed with his male paraphernalia on blatantly exposed but no one thinks of him as naked. They talked about him as they wanted. He understood every word that was spoken but couldn’t utter a word in response. They touched him as they wanted and restrained as he was, he couldn’t do a thing to protect himself from their eyes or their hands. He pissed and pooped as nature demanded. The worst part, though, was the boredom. He came to welcome to his interactions with the stable girls.

He was fitted with hooved boots. He practiced his commands for a full hour each morning. The commands were few and simple but the drills were endless. He knew the commands well and obeyed diligently yet the repetitions went on and on.

The afternoons were different. He circled Sally on a long lead at a jog for the better part of an hour. When his pace lagged, he felt her whip. He was reminded once again that he had no enthusiasm for pain.

They left him hobbled in the paddock with the other mounts before his evening feeding. The other mounts in training were all hobbled. The trained mounts were not.

The trained mounts stayed together and chased the new arrivals away. They boasted the stable’s brand and their owners’ personal marks. They claimed the sunniest places on chilly days and the shadiest places on warm days. They chased the others away from the food trough and ate first.

He was perspiring and tired when Eliśka led him back to the grooming stand. His body was sticky with sweat. His nose ring was secured and she squatted to secure his ankles. She secured his left ankle and freed him from his hobble. He had a brief opening to kick at her with his right foot. He could not escape but he could kick at her and he might even make contact. His hooved foot was a dangerous weapon. He was so tempted but he could not see exactly where she squatted. He could well imagine the bite of her whip in retaliation and it still seemed likely worth the certainly painful consequences – almost. However, while these rebellious thoughts raced through his mind, she secured his right ankle. This opportunity had passed for good or ill.

Zack was now groomed every night. He chuckled to recall that had once had private parts. Two nights a week, Hannah took Eliśka’s place. Occasionally, Jenny got the duty. Sally, his trainer, apparently, had other tasks. Grooming was not just for appearance and hygiene. Grooming accustomed a mount to his rider’s handling.

He had long empty hours alone in his stall to brood on his fate. Memories of his previous life faded in his waking nightmare. He brooded on his desperate plan to win his captors’ trust and escape. He would take someone hostage and negotiate his freedom. Simply, he had had no opportunity. 

Increasingly, the abject loneliness of his long hours alone in his stall made him eager for any human contact. He welcomed the girl who roused him in the morning and his interactions with the girl who supervised his training. He eagerly anticipated Eliśka’s attention, Hannah’s smile, and Jenny’s touch. Most of all, he came to value Sally’s approval.

One chilly afternoon, Zack sought out a sunny place in the paddock. Sally opened the gate with and unknown older, dark haired woman beside her. Sally closed the gate. Zack wondered if she had seen him. Had she come for an extra training session? 

Once, Zack had been a clothed person. Now he was a naked animal. The little blonde cunt had gotten him in these straits. She and his fucking damned stupidity! Did she regret what she had done to him? He felt his hatred boil but somehow, he still wanted her to notice him. 

Sally called, “Max!” Zack looked at Max, one of the veteran ponies as the large strong male looked up, suddenly alert. Max was large but he was not as large as Zack. Max smiled around his bit.

“Here!” Max trotted to her with eagerness. Swept back in a ponytail, the dark hair on his head fell almost to his waist. He bent at the waist so that she might stroke his cheek. He pressed his head against her chest. Laughing, she pushed him away. 

“Good boy!” She held his bridle and fed him a sliver of apple. He towered over the petite woman but none might doubt who commanded and who obeyed. Had he no dignity, Zack asked himself?

Sally looked up and pointed to Zack, “There’s our new one, Judith. You did his modifications. We’ve made much progress”

Judith Prescott nodded. She and Sally approached Zack. Sally led Max with a firm hand on his bridle. Limited by his hobble, Zack shuffled away but had nowhere to flee. The two backed him quickly into a corner. Max scowled over Sally’s shoulder.

Dr. Prescott studied Zack. She scanned him head to toe. “I remember! He’s really a meaty one. Someday, he’ll make a clowder of cats happy.” No one liked to think about the fate of ponies too old to be useful. “Has he a name?”

Sally snorted. “Judith, we call him Big Boy but nothing official yet.” Sally reached out and stroked his cheek. 

Zack shuddered and pulled away at her soft touch. Her gentle touch felt so good and that was somehow unsettling.

“I’d call him Cat Chow,” Dr. Prescott chuckled. “What was his name before?”

“Don’t remember. I can look him up?”

“Don’t bother. Before does not much matter now.”

Max, almost as large as Zack but not quite, towered over Sally and glowered at the untrained male. Jealousy among intact males was endemic.

“Let’s ride!” Ms. Prescott put her fingers to her lips and whistled. A trained mount, Windsong, trotted over. She mounted Windsong and Sally mounted Max. The two rode from the yard.

Zack watched them go. He would never accept a rider!


	7. Chapter 7

Drills continued. Sally more than any other barked the brief commands. Zack readily learned what she required and chose to obey to avoid the lash. She wielded her whip with authority but never capriciously and never to excess. Her rigor was really a kindness. A correction too lightly administered is too soon forgotten and need be repeated.

Endurance work continued. Sally ran him on the lunging rope. She stood in the center of the large paddock and held a long lead. She pointed and ordered, “Run!” Zack just stood there and looked dumbly at her until she obtained his comprehension with her whip. After the whip slashed his bare buttock, he got the message and ran in circles. When he tired, Sally encouraged him to speed up with her whip. Sally taught to walk, jog, stride, sprint, and stop on command. Sally or another ran him three times a day - morning, afternoon, and evening. She ran him to exhaustion and then drilled him on his positions again. 

Zack learned to answer promptly to the whip. Over time, just the snap of the whip became sufficient. Contact was not required. Eventually, he responded to the subtle tension in her whip arm as she prepared to strike. He learned to jog, pace, run and sprint on command. His strength and endurance increased. She ran him to exhaustion, but never asked more of him than he could do and always walked him until he cooled down before she brought him in for the night for thorough grooming.

He was grateful to return to the paddock to rest and looked forward to his grooming sessions and sleep in his stall. Gradually, he came to look forward to their training sessions. Sally worked him hard but never demanded more than he could do. She showed obvious pleasure at his progress.

The drills continued, day after day. Days turned into weeks and Zack guessed that he had passed the six-week mark. Zack felt the lash when he hesitated or when he slouched. The drills still went on and on, day after day. He knew what was required of him and he obeyed willingly. Still, he told himself that he obeyed only because he chose to obey and avoid the damned lash. He took a quiet pride in his ability to fool them all with his feigned obedience. The drills continued ceaselessly. 

Simply, he had found no opportunity to escape. He was never free. He was always under direct supervision or tethered to something. His harness restrained his wrists and the hobble, his ankles. 

Later, Sally found Zack secured on the grooming stand. Hannah attended to his grooming. Sally placed one hand on his muscular buttock and cupped his balls gently in her other hand. 

God, he hated her but her hands felt so good. He pulled back against the stand but he found no give. Secured as he was, he had little that he could do. The firm pressure of her hand on his balls warned him to hold still. 

“A fine animal! He’s ready to proceed with his training” she told Hannah. 

“Kneel.” Zack went down on both knees, his ankles hobbled, the next morning. Kneeling, he was almost as tall as Sally. “Look at me!” she demanded.  
Zack looked at her. He heard someone approach him from behind but he looked straight ahead at Sally. He dared not turn his head. Sally tapped him on the nose and signaled that he should keep his eyes on her. 

The footsteps drew closer. “Ready?” Eliśka asked Sally. 

Sally nodded and grabbed his nose ring.

“Hi, Big Boy,” Eliśka purred as she stroked his cheek and neck. He felt her foot on the back of his leg. She draped some jumble of leather straps and buckles over his head.   
Zack held motionless while she deftly fitted the device to him. A bridle emerged from her efforts. Blinders on either side narrowly restricted his field of vision.   
“Big Boy, open!” Sally commanded. She opened her mouth wide as if to show him what was required. 

Zack opened his mouth as he had been asked. Eliśka inserted metal bit and quickly secured it to the bit rings. A tongue port projected back into his mouth to press his tongue down and prevent him from dislodging the bit.   
Zack coughed and sputtered. He shook his head and pushed at the bit with his tongue to no avail. He panicked and choked. Laughing, Eliśka stepped backwards as Zack threw himself this way and that, twisting and turning, trying to free himself from the bit.

“Easier, Boy, if you just accept it,” Sally sympathized. She did not apply her whip. She stepped back and just waited for him to exhaust himself in his vain efforts. Finally, he lay motionless, sprawled on the ground. His wrists were secured by his harness. His ankles were hobbled. He had been unable to dislodge the damned bit. “Big Boy, kneel!” The bit firmly binds male size and strength to the service of his rider. Even the most petite rider may easily manage the largest, strongest male.

Slowly and laboriously, Zack collected himself and rose awkwardly slowly to his knees.

“Up,” Sally commanded and he rose to his feet. She led him to the grooming stand with one hand on his new bridle. In the past, she had snapped the lead to his nose ring. He stumbled after her, suddenly glad to avoid for the painful pressure on his nose.  
The bit was uncomfortable. Would he ever be free of it?


	8. Chapter 8

She talked with him as they walked or rather, talked to him. He made little sense of her words and references but he came to enjoy the sound of her voice as well of the touch of her hands on the grooming stand. He laughed to remember that once he had had private parts. 

Whatever his intentions, his strength and endurance grew to meet each challenge. He was often exhausted after a long workout and came to enjoy his grooming. He was often grateful to return to his stall to rest. Nights, he was exhausted and slept well. With his utter exhaustion, he had less energy to brood and his imaginary rebellions became less frequent. He had less and less energy left to plot his escape or to dream of revenge except in the scant minutes before sleep. His thoughts turned kindlier toward his grooms and trainers.

He had come to tolerate the bit with its intrusive tongue port. Next, came the weighted training saddles. First, Sally taught Zack to kneel to be saddled while Hannah or another groom held his bridle.

Sally jabbed Zack’s knee with her crop and commanded, “Kneel!” Zack knelt and sensed immediately that he had done exactly the right thing. He basked in Sally’s approval.

Sally hefted the cleverly constructed saddle over his shoulders. Straps crossed his shoulders and connected to a belt that circled his waist. Tail straps passed over his muscular buttocks, slipped between his brawny thighs, and joined in a ring that circled his genitals. A single strap rose to attach to his belly cinch. He could urinate and defecate without soiling his tack. His arms were restrained by his safety harness. He now wore the saddle for his obedience and conditioning work. 

Zack ran well saddled and his endurance increased steadily. The saddle was weighted in the second week and the weight was gradually increased. 

Sally brought him to the point when she could fasten his lead to the center post in the exercise ring and run him, alone or with another mount or three or even four other mounts. Another trainer or even an exercise girl could run him without problem. Every few days, they increased the weights in his training saddle and ran him a few minutes longer. His strength and endurance grew over the next weeks. He was certain that at least two months had passed since his capture.

The routine was exhausting and mind-numbing. Sometimes, they rewarded him with piece of fruit. The sweet fruit was a real treat compared to his bland and monotonous diet. Zack came to relish the sweets and to enjoy the soothing massages. He knew where all this was leading. Would he let them ride him like an animal? He had seen other males carrying their riders. He saw Max carrying Sally and he admitted to a pang of jealousy. 

He slept with deeply and with few dreams. Gentler images of his grooms and trainers competed with his more bizarre revenge fantasies. Memories of his past life faded. He thought less and less about escape and freedom. Somehow, he began to look forward to his sessions with Sally after his long hours alone in his stall.

Training continued smoothly. His body took on a pleasing all-over tan. His regular grooming kept him completely depilated. He lost the small amount of fat he had carried when he first arrived despite his mid-season football conditioning. His beard grew in and Eliśka. Hannah, or Jenny clipped him neatly at 1/4 inch weekly when she shaved the sides of his head. The grooms combed back his center strip of hair into a thick mane. 

Zack had learned his commands. His strength and endurance were growing. He had come to accept his bit, bridle, and saddle. He wore the bit and bridle day and night but he had yet to carry a rider. He swore that he would die first. 

Zack knelt, ankles hobbled and wrists restrained by his harness. After ten full weeks of training, Sally saddled him with an unweighted saddle. His blinkers severely limited his peripheral vision. He tried to turn his head too see Sally but Eliśka held his nose ring firmly.

He wondered why the saddle was suddenly so light. Someone removed his hobble.

“Mount!” Zack planted his left foot. His body complied even before his mind had fully processed the command. To his utter and complete surprise, Someone - Sally - stepped up on his left thigh, swung her right leg over and sat herself solidly in the saddle. Zack could only hold absolutely still to avoid increasing the tearing pressure on his nose ring. The cunningly designed saddle shifted her weight onto his hips, lowering the otherwise high center of gravity and improving stability. 

“Up!” Sally barked. She never squeaked. He stood carefully on command. Bearing she was no more difficult for him than bearing the weighted saddle. In fact, she was lighter. Contrary to his bitter oaths, something seemed just right.

Eliśka led him to the exercise yard with Sally on his back. Hannah stood in the center of the yard and held his lead. Big Boy jogged, strode, and sprinted as directed. It was easier than running with the weighted training saddle. Sally was a skilled rider and moved with him. Big Boy felt her warm breath on his neck. He inhaled her perfume and her closeness somehow thrilled him. After all the arduous weeks of training, something felt just right. 

Sally began to dictate the pace herself. Her crop, however sharply wielded, was little different than her cruel lunging whip when she stood in the center of the yard and hectored him. The spurs were another matter. Big Boy hadn’t noticed the blunted metal spurs projecting from the heels of Sally’s boots until he felt her jab him. Their first sharp jab changed his life. Soon, even the touch of cold metal against his bare flanks reminded him who was mistress and who her subservient beast. He feared the spurs more than he feared the whip or crop. Big Boy began to watch Sally’s shiny leather boots and those of the other girls. The mere glint of metal made him tremble.

Sally ran him to utter exhaustion. She had consistently high expectations and no tolerance for laxity. She used her crop liberally and with authority. Leniency was no virtue. A correction too mildly administered, need too soon and too often be repeated. He answered to her promptly and without reservation. She let him feel her spurs but spared him their excessive use. Despite his extensive conditioning, he was thoroughly marked and thoroughly exhausted when she was finished.

His chest heaved and breath burned in his throat. Sally walked him for quite a long time before he cooled down. He basked in her approval. She secured him on the stand and began his thorough grooming herself. 

As always, he enjoyed the feel of her busy hands on his tired body. She handled his genitals gently with a casual familiarity. Too long denied, Zack groaned and tried increase the contact. 

Sally chuckled to see that his erection had returned and turned her attention elsewhere. She rarely allowed her ponies release. She enjoyed her total, unquestionable mastery but had never been attracted to intimate relations with livestock.

For the next week, training continued. Big Boy was bitted, bridled, and saddled. He cantered, but only for brief periods. Sally focused mostly on changing gaits and maneuvering. She used her knees against Big Boy’s sides. Her left knee pressed against his side guided him to the right. Her right knee turned him to the left. Both knees tapping meant go or go faster. A tight squeeze from both knees meant slow or stop. The degree of pressure determined the sharpness of the maneuver. Big Boy got use to the combination of the knees against his sides and the pull on his reins.

Big Boy stood in the infield and saw three barrels configured in an isosceles triangle. Other ponies and their riders rounding the track. The stands were empty. He looked at the barrels again. He had little enthusiasm for anything new and unfamiliar. He pulled against his reins and bit down on his bit, hard.

Sally sat in her high saddle and studied the course. Two barrels, at the base, stood about 15 yards from the starting line and 30 yards apart. The third barrel at the apex was 35 yards from either flanking barrel and about 32 yards from the starting line. An experienced rider, she sensed her mount’s anxiety and stroked him under the jaw. This was all new for Big Boy. She tightened her grip on the reins and took a deep breath.

“Ready,” Emma called. “Set.” She readied the stopwatch in her hand and lifted the whistle to her lips.

“Go!” Sally whispered to herself at the whistle’s shrill sound. Her spurs snapped into Big Boy’s flanks.

Big Boy started forward at a walk. Sally guided him the right and brought him to an easy trot. His uncertainty was obvious. She dragged him sharply to the right and they circled the first barrel counter-clockwise. Big Boy ran between barrels. Sally guided him to the top of the left-hand barrel and pulled him sharply to the left. They circled the left had barrel and ran to the top barrel. Big Boy rounded the barrel smartly and Sally drove him back to the starting line. 

“Time!” Emily wrote something on her clipboard.

Sally brought Big Boy to a walk and turned him back to the barrels. “Let’s do that again.” They worked around the barrels again, changing directions and speeds. Big Boy ran the course at a trot. Very quickly, he was moving around the barrels at her command at a canter.

He carried Sally in the exercise yard mornings, afternoons, and evenings. It just felt right. She was a skilled rider and they moved together as one.

After his gradual, extensive preparation, carrying Sally was easy. Big Boy became as used to his saddle as he had become used to the bit and bridle. The whip, bit, and the spurs terrified him, but the Sally never wielded them without provocation or to excess. 

Exhausted, he slept well and ate what passed for food eagerly. He looked forward to the occasional sweet. He loved the treats, even when Sally pulled a chunk of dried apricot or salty jerky from her jeans pocket, even soiled with sand and grit. Alone in his stall, he slept and dreamed more of Sally and the others and less of escape and revenge.

He was no longer the least experienced pony in the stable. He was no longer hobbled in the paddock. He came eagerly when called. He named the new arrivals, Red, Kinte Kunte, Bones and Snake. They were so frightened and they had so much to learn. He wished that he might tell them what he had learned and spare them his suffering. The veteran ponies still did not accept him as he carried had yet to bear the stable’s brand and carried no mark of personal ownership.

Sally entered the paddock and looked about. Big Boy looked up expectantly. Max looked up too. Sally scanned the paddock and smiled. “Big Boy! Here!” she called.

Big Boy ran to her eagerly. Max scowled and looked away. Big Boy found a modicum of pleasure in the other’s unhappiness.

That day, his world expanded. He carried Sally around the exercise yard at an easy trot. Then Eliśka swung open the gate.

Seconds passed, then a totally new awareness dawned in his head. After all the hours of leading and lunging, of running in circles in the exercise yard, he was absolutely free. Although his wrists were harnessed, his ankles were no longer hobbled. No lead restrained him – he had only a woman on his back – a girl really - and she was less than half his size. The gate to the exercise yard stood open!

Freedom! He was free! Who would stop him? Who could stop him? He bolted and made a wild dash through the gate. Sally’s weight on his back was nothing. She might wield the whip as she liked but he knew he could ignore her biting lash and reach the damned gate and freedom. He wondered briefly how far the ranch was set back from the highway. He really didn’t care. They had trained and conditioned him well. No distance would be too far. Who could catch him?

Sally hung on and waited. He was not the first mount she had broken. As he soon would discover, Big Boy had to clear the secure outer gate beyond the open inner gate before reaching the access road that led to the highway.

However, he believed that he had won free -at last. He saw the access road in the distance and he ran all the harder. He would win free. Then he saw the solid fence and the securely closed outer gate. He ran himself to exhaustion, back and forth, searching the fence for a nonexistent breech. He found no path to escape. Sally just waited while he ran himself to exhaustion. 

Soon thereafter, he rounded the grounds smartly, fully under his rider’s control. Beaten and broken, he shrank back into himself and let his body respond to his rider’s direction with no conscious intervention. Fantasies of escape and revenge died in his mind to be replaced by prayers for Sally’s approval.

Sally was pleased. The large male had adjusted to his new life well. They usually do, having little choice. All the same, she admired his spirit. The same courage he had shown in his desperate escape attempt might be harnessed in the service of his rider. He had learned his lessons early in the game. The male was big and strong to start with and now was thoroughly conditioned. He carried his rider easily and responded smartly to his reins, and his rider’s crop and spurs. A raw mount is a mountain of work but Big Boy had learned much in only twelve weeks.

“You know,” Sally reminded Hannah, “no one can turn a man into a pony - not even Caitlin or me. But some men just have a pony lurking inside them. We just have to find them and help them express their true natures.”


	9. Chapter 9

Sally was very proud on the day when Big Boy knelt to accept his saddle, bridle, and bit. Judith brought a picnic lunch and took them for a trail ride. She rode her favorite, Wing Song, Caitlin rode the gelding White Bread. Geldings were quite popular at the stable. Many mothers felt more comfortable when their young daughters rode geldings. However, expert equestriennes usually preferred intact males.

Judith used her ring to open the inner gate, then closed it behind her when the others were past. Only then, she opened the outer gate. A third gate still separated the ranch from the highway. 

On the trail, they varied their pace from jog, to stride, and to sprint to call on different muscle groups and keep the mounts fresh. A good rider conserves her mount’s strength. A well-trained mount will give of everything of himself and run until his lungs burst and his heart fails. More than one careless rider had had her mount collapse dead beneath her. Judith had less patience and more disdain for the careless rider who left her valuable mount blown and exhausted than she had for a rebellious mount. A woman should simply know better.

She made sure that they walked the mounts until they cooled off before they stopped and hobbled them in the shade. Before they went for their swim, Caitlin and Sally watered the mounts.

Sally and Caitlin spread out a picnic blanket. The women chatted and ate. People really talking! Big Boy listened. Sally often spoke to him but this was very different. Ponies did not talk. Should he even try to speak, his surgically altered throat and bit would garble his words and he would earn himself a painful swipe or two. With him, Sally talked and he simply listened. Increasingly, many of Sally’s references lacked any meaning for him. Only her simple commands had meaning, ‘Kneel,’ ‘Up,’ and ‘Mount.’ He knew nothing of the people, places, and things that seemed so important to her. He had no real insight into her concerns. He had gradually ceased trying to extract any meaning from her words and studied her tone more than her words to determine her approval or disapproval.

Sally, Caitlin, and Ms. Prescott ate with knives and forks like people. Big Boy had to lower his head to eat like an animal. They shared a drink container. None would never place her lips anywhere Big Boy’s mouth had touched. The women would not share their food with livestock.

Sally listened with horror at Judith’s story of one woman’s boasting of the mount she had driven mercilessly until his heart had literally burst. Dying, he collapsed under her and she had jumped desperately for safety, suffering bruises, abrasions and a torn and soiled riding costume. The woman sensed Judith’s obvious anguish and blithely assumed that Judith was sympathizing with her painful spill rather than distressed by the valuable mount’s clearly avoidable demise. Sally had heard the story many times before.

Big Boy knew he should hate them all but he liked to escape the narrow confines of his stall and the close restraint of his hobble and run under the open sky, even temporarily. It was the nearest he might come to freedom. He had come to enjoy the closeness with Sally – the fragrance of her perfume and the sound of her voice.

Especially, he had come to enjoy carrying Sally in his saddle. She was a skilled rider and they moved as one. He enjoyed the feel of her hands on his body while he hung on the grooming stand. He respected her crop and spurs but he had gradually come to dread her displeasure even more than her crop and spurs. 

Finally, Sally allowed others to ride him. Unskilled girls bounced around in his saddle. Experienced riders moved with him and they ran as one -a team. He knew that Sally would disapprove of any misbehavior.

He felt the warm sun on his skin, the weight of his rider in the saddle, and her sweet breath on his neck. His inner voice faded as he raced forward. The rhythm of his strides upon the ground, entranced him and stilled his inner voice. He was still free in his core, he fiercely believed, and he was no one’s beast. Someday, he would show them all but not today and most likely, not tomorrow either.

Sally ran the barrels often. He became quite adept. One day, Sally closed his blinkers. Big Boy could see nothing.

Sally sensed his tension. “Don’t worry, Big Boy. Nothing will hurt you.” She stroked his throat. “Let’s do this!” Her spurred heels snapped into his flanks. Big Boy lurched forward uncertainly. He could see nothing. His mind emptied, awaiting Sally’s direction. Calm replaced panic. Sally guided him through the course with his reins and her knees. He ran the course, once at a walk and then at a trot. He felt the air thicken as he approached a barrel. Finally, he ran the course at an all-out run. 

She brought him around. “Let’s do that again – faster!”


	10. Chapter 10

The wild applause told Big Boy that he had done well. Sally opened his blinkers and the brilliant sunlight was painful. Sally guided him for a circuit of the track and he saw the crowd standing and cheering. He knew that they had won! Head up and knees high he pranced around the half mile track proudly.

He knelt beside Sally in the Winner’s Circle. Her arm circled his sweaty broad shoulders. A judge draped a garland of flowers over his brawny neck. 

Sally stood in front of him. Beaming, she held his face between her hands and looked him directly in his eyes. She chuckled when he tried to avert his gaze. She lowered her head as if to kiss him and he closed his eyes. She kissed him loudly on the forehead. The crowd erupted in cheers again.

They spent some time in the field. Many wanted pictures with the champion and her mount. Big Boy was glad when Sally and Hannah finally led him back to the stable. A knot of well-wishers followed.

Sally and Hannah stripped him of his saddle and led him to the grooming stand. His nose ring was clipped to the upright and his ankles were secured to stays set in the floor. His arms secured to the crosspiece and he was freed from his harness. 

Big Boy closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of their busy hands on his tired, sweaty body. “You did good, Big Boy, really good!” Sally purred and ran her soapy hand from the base of his neck down the length of his spine to his tailbone. She patted his rump fondly and slipped her fingers between his muscular buttocks. She pressed a finger against his rectum and he pulled sharply away against his restraints. The women laughed.

Big Boy was content. He was Sally’s pony but she was his too in a very special way. He felt a hand toying with his balls. “Do you think he’s earned his special treat?” Hannah teased.

Sally rarely allowed her ponies release. No one said anything but Big Boy felt fingers freeing his the navel ring. A hand circled him and his body responded promptly. He pulled against his restraints to maximize pressure. Sally worked him strongly. After months of denial, he shuddered and ejaculated massively. The grooming stand groaned but held. The room erupted in applause.


	11. Chapter 11

The ponies arranged themselves in a strict hierarchy in the paddock. The veteran mounts, carrying both the marks of the stable and their individual owners, hung together and claimed the sunniest places on chilly days and the shadiest places on sunny days. They chased the newbies like Red, Kinte Kunte, Bones and Snake away. Big Boy stood somewhere in between. His training was quite advanced but he had yet to carry the brand that denoted completion of his training or his owner’s personal brand.

The paddock gait swung open. Big Boy looked up. All the ponies looked up. Sally entered in her equestrienne gear with another woman, dark haired and taller than the petite Sally. Big Boy saw only Sally, her roweled spurs, and the well-worn crop at her belt. He smiled around his bit and made a pony-like noise to draw her attention.

Big Boy trotted to her side as she scanned the paddock. “Hi, Big Boy!” she smiled and grabbed his bridle. “This is Big Boy,” she explained to her companion. She looked away. “Max, Max!” she called.

Red, Kinte Kunte, Bones and Snake watched as Max trotted to his owner eagerly. Sally held the two ponies’ bridles, one in each hand, and held them apart. The two dwarfed her and neither was happy with the other’s close proximity. 

Sally struggled to keep them apart. “Sheridan, here, take Big Boy’s bridle,” she said, laughing at her struggle. Big Boy tried to pull away but a firm grip restrained him.

Sheridan pulled Big Boy away. Her grip was strong and Big Boy could not resist the pressure on his bit. He watched Sally stroke Max’s cheek fondly. Eagerly, Max pressed his head against her shoulder. Sally shoved him away but seemed all too pleased with her favorite mount. Big Boy seethed with naked jealousy.

“Mount!” Sheridan commanded. 

Big Boy did not move. It was not that he disobeyed her, he simply did not hear her. Sally and Max possessed all his attention. Sheridan’s crop bit into the back of his thigh. “Mount!”

This time, Big Boy heard her command and his body obeyed as he had been trained. Even before his mind had fully processed her words, he went to his right knee with his left foot planted solidly on the ground, offering his left thigh as a mounting platform.

Sheridan mounted and brought him to his feet. Big Boy did as directed but Sally and Max still held his attention. He raged with envy. Only the sharp jab of Sheridan’s spurs brought his focus back to his rider. She sensed his distress and stroked his cheek to calm him. Big Boy saw only Max carrying Sally, his Sally. Big Boy was Sally’s pony and only he should be carrying her, not stupid Max. He saw the others watching him. The newbies and the trained mounts had all witnessed his disgrace. 

Max looked back at Big Boy and smiled around his bit. He was proud that Sally had chosen him. His smug self-satisfaction was evident. In addition, he savored Big Boy’s public embarrassment. Sally spurs snapped into his flanks and she rode him out of the paddock. 

Sheridan jabbed Big Boy with her spurs and he jumped forward abruptly and followed Max out of the paddock, staring at the other’s muscular buttocks. Sheridan kept a firm hand on his reins and held them a safe distance apart.

They had run them hard. Sheridan was a skilled rider and she had pushed Big Boy to his limits. Big Boy rose every challenge, not wanting Max to show him up, not wanting Sally to be disappointed with him. However, he was distracted, watching Sally on her Max every chance he found and hoping that Sally noticed of his effort and approved.

Sheridan and Sally secured Big Boy and Max side by side on grooming stands. Big Boy pulled against his nose ring to see Sally better.

“Well, what’d you think?” Sally asked. She rested her brush on the small of Max’s back and came to Big Boy’s side. “Take a look at him.” Sally ran her hand from the nape of Big Boy’s neck, along his spine, to his tail bone. She slapped his muscular buttock, showing her unquestioned mastery and betraying at least a hint of fondness. She cupped his ball sac in her gloved hand.

Big Boy sighed aloud at Sally’s touch. His feelings for her had evolved. His cock had engorged to betray his undeniable arousal. He did not go unnoticed. 

“A spirited beast but likely too much mount for me.” Sheridan laughed. “Know what? I think he’s got a thing for you, Sally.” Sheridan teased. “I think old Big Boy’s in love!”

“Ah, love. Do you love me, Big Boy?” Sally teased. He was not Max but he was a magnificent mount. She had captured him. She had broken and trained him. His body obeyed her commands before his mind had even processed them. She stroked his chest and pinched his vestigial male nipple gently. “Do you really love me?” She sighed theatrically and Sheridan laughed aloud.

Sally had tricked him and stolen him from his life, such as it was. She had broken him and trained him. Still, Big Boy savored her touch and moaned, his surgically modified throat unable to form words, even had his tongue not been trapped beneath his bit. Big Boy pulled against his restraints and humped the air.

“Do you really love me or do you just want to fuck me?” Sally looked at Sheridan and grinned.

Her finger stroked the side of his head. “Let me tell you something, Big Boy.” She rubbed her finger in the slimy drool at the corner of his bitted mouth. “Honey, you’re the one who’s fucked and I fucked you. Hope it was as good for you as it was for me!” She squeezed his ripe ball sac in her gloved hand. “What do you think?”

Big Boy was Sally’s pony but she was a trainer. He had come to love her. She did not love him. She broke ponies like him and readied them for sale.

Sheridan wrinkled her nose in distaste at the notion of intimate relations with livestock. She found the entire display unpleasant. “I’m going to buy a gelding.”

Sally turned to Sheridan. “He’s broken and ready for sale. If you like, we can geld him. Snip, snip. Give him a couple of days and you can take him out on the trails again.”

Big Boy pulled against his restraints. The grooming stand groaned but head. The women laughed again.

Sheridan shook her head, no.


	12. Chapter 12

Eliśka watched the girls approach, Emily, Ava, Chloe, and Samantha. Eager for the morning’s ride, the girls chatted excitedly. They look sharp in their stylish riding attire. Spurs gleamed on their shiny boot. They were in the advanced class and had earned the right to wear spurs.

Eliśka studied the four ponies, saddled and secured to the rail – Dancer, Ghost, and Mister Green Jeans. Big Boy was tied about 10 feet awayon the right. The first three were geldings. Only Big Boy was intact. Intact males were stubborn, lazy, short tempered, and a danger to themselves and others. Most mothers preferred that their daughters ride geldings but elite riders preferred the challenge of an intact male. Eliśka chose the pony for each rider. Chloe had requested a stallion and her mom had signed the waiver. 

“Sami, you can ride the one on the left – Dancer. Ava – the next one, Ghost and Emily – Green Jeans. Chloe, you’re on Big Boy, if you’re up for it.” Chloe was the smallest of the four but she was more than willing and her mother had signed a release. 

Eagerly, the Sami, Ava, and Emily went to their ponies. Chloe hesitated. “He’s so big,” she exclaimed. 

“And he’s still got his balls!” Emily pointed. The others looked and laughed. 

“Touch them!” Ava teased. “Stag hag!”

Chloe wrinkled her nose in distaste and looked at Eliśka.

“Well? He’s broken and trained. Just let him know that you’re the boss and never let him doubt it.”

“Does he kick?” A pony’s iron shod feet were dangerous weapons.

Eliśka touched the whip coiled on belt. “Not anymore,” she smiled. 

Chloe put her gloved small hand on Big Boy’s broad back. “Hi, Big Boy. I’m Chloe.”

Eliśka hid her smile behind her hand. One didn’t usually introduce herself to livestock. 

Big Boy stood motionless. He pulled sharply at his reins. He had carried trainers, exercise girls, and grooms well. Somehow, something seemed just right about bearing a skilled rider in his saddle. Running under saddle under the open sky was as near as he came to freedom. Unfamiliar people made him anxious, though. A harsh hand on his reins could tear his mouth. He was at the mercy of her riding crop and spurs. He had absolutely no enthusiasm for pain.

One by one, the girls mounted their ponies and freed them from the rail. Chloe looked at the stirrup and gauged how she might climb up to the high saddle. She looked at Eliśka.

“Free him from the rail and lead him into the yard,” Eliśka suggested helpfully.

Chloe shook her head and led Big Boy into the yard. The next step was obvious. “Mount!” she ordered and hoped that she hadn’t squeaked.

Big Boy dropped to his right knee with his left foot planted and his brawny left thigh parallel with the ground. 

Chloe stepped up on his thigh, lifted her left foot to his stirrup and swung her right leg over the saddle – easier than it looked. She planted her feet in the stirrups and settled herself in her seat. “Up!”

Big Boy stood. Easier than she had feared, Chloe thought. The world looked so different from her high perch. Suddenly, she was taller than her taller friends. She felt the special thrill of her unquestioned mastery of large, powerful male. She stroked his cheek and gently ran her finger behind his ear. “Big Boy, you’re a good boy,” she whispered and suddenly embarrassed, looked around to see if any of her friends had seen her talking to an animal.

With a hand on his reins and a touch of her spurs, she guided him to follow her friends from the yard – Sami on Dancer. Ava on Ghost and Emily on Mr. Green Jeans. Immediately, she sensed his impatience. He simply did not like to follow, she sensed. Well, big and strong as he was, he would do exactly as she decided, she grinned.

The fence enclosed a quarter mile track. Sami brought Dancer to a jog. Ava and Emily followed. Finally, Chloe joined her friends. They circled the track once and again.

“Fartlek!” Eliśka called from the infield. They would jog 330 yards, stride 220 yards, and sprint 110 yards. Chloe had done it all before, though never on such an impressive mount. 

Big Boy tried to pass Green Jeans during the jog. Chloe held him firmly back. She held him back through the first lap and a half. She let him pass Green Jeans during the second jog and Ghost on the second stride. She gave him his head during the second sprint and they overtook Dancer. Then she went to her crop and whipped him through a fourth lap at an all-out run. 

They lapped the field and came up behind Green Jeans. The pack was completing their third jug.

“Stride!” Eliśka barked.

Big Boy’s chest heaved with great deep breaths. Perspiration poured from his large body. Drool dribbled from around his bit. Chloe savored the aroma his honest exertion but let him feel her spurs and keep up the pace. 

“Sprint!”

Big Boy shuddered. Chloe went to her crop. His powerful legs reached out and devoured the track. He passed Emily on Green Jeans and Ava on Ghost. She stroked his cheek again when Eliśka finally brought them to a walk. Chloe felt the slimy drool on his cheek. His endurance was impressive. His speed was exhilarating. 

Eliśka gave them 10 easy minutes. They walked in a line. Sami on Dancer led. Chloe on Big Boy, Ava on Ghost, and Emily on Green Jeans followed. Big Boy kept moving up on Dancer and Chloe had to pull him back. 

“Chase!” Eliśka called and blew her whistle. In a chase, the trailing pony rushes to the front of the pack with each whistle. Sami set the pace at a stride on Dancer. The others followed. The whistle sounded. Emily pulled Green Jean to the right and spurred him forward. Sami held the pack to an even pace. Green Jeans slowly caught up and pulled even. Green Jeans pulled three strides ahead and slipped back to the rail. Now Emily set the pace.

Eliśka sounded the whistle again. Ava spurred her mount. Ghost swung wide and increased his pace. He pulled even with Big Boy and Big Boy surged forward to match his pace. Chloe jerked back on his reins sharply to restrain him. Finally, Ghost passed Big Boy, then Dancer, and finally Green Jeans. Ghost slipped left, back to the rail. Chloe and Big Boy now trailed.

A whistle and Big Boy erupted with a burst of speed before Chloe did anything. He charged forward and Chloe hung on. She did well to keep her seat. They raced by Dancer. They passed Green Jeans and then Ghost. Chloe was exhilarated.

Big Boy passed Ghost and slid over to the rail. Now he led the procession and set the pace. He and seemed quite pleased with himself.

Suddenly, she sensed that something was wrong. She looked quickly to Eliśka and saw reproach in her expression. Chloe was her pony’s rider and not a helpless passenger. She was not a six-year-old, sitting on the back of some broken down gelding while her mother led him around the track. She snorted at her silliness. Big Boy had not waited for her instruction. He had charged ahead on his own. She had wanted to ride a spirited stallion and not some accommodating gelding but he must know her as his master.

The whistle sounded again. Sami made her move. Dancer passed Green Jeans, and Ghost. He pulled even with Big Boy. Sami went to her crop

Big Boy heard him close and increased his pace. He liked to be the leader. He hated staring at the naked stinking ass of a pony in front of him. He and Dancer ran side by side – shoulder to shoulder.

Chloe jerked back on his reins and his bit tore painfully at his mouth. His head snapped back and he lost his stride. Dancer shot past. Big Boy stumbled but kept his balance. Chloe tugged back on his reins again so that he would know that the first restraint was not an accident. 

The girls walked their mounts until they cooled then turned them over to the grooms. They went to the snack shop for treats.

Chloe returned to the stable with an ice cream cone. Jenny had stripped Big Boy of his saddle and harness. She secured him to the grooming stand. He stood bent at the waist with his nose ring clipped to the upright. His ankles were secured at shoulders’ width to stays set in the floor. His arms were outstretched with his wrists secured to the cross piece.

His male paraphernalia were on blatant display, demonstrating the helpless vulnerability of his sex. An animal may be unclothed but no one ever thinks of him as being naked. 

“Hey, Big Boy!” Chloe smiled. “Thanks for the ride.” Chloe noted the leavings of her crop and spurs on his large body. As of yet, he did not bear the stable’s brand. She slapped his muscular buttock fondly and he pulled vainly against his restraints. He was a magnificent animal. 

She stroked his cheek and ran her finger behind his ear. He sighed and relaxed. He seemed to enjoy her ministrations. He turned his head toward her to the limited extent he was able. 

Anxious for his teeth, she offered him a spec of ice cream on the tip of her finger. He opened his mouth and eagerly licked the treat from her proffered finger. His wet tongue tickled. 

She rubbed his strong neck and ran her finger down his spine from the base of his skull to his tailbone. His skin was still warm to the touch and sticky.

“A fine mount.” Jenny offered.

“Yes,” Chloe agreed, “though he still must learn who is his master and who her usually obedient beast.”

“Don’t they all,” Jenny added and they both laughed. 

“I wonder if the stable might sell him,” Chloe asked.

“You’ll have to speak with Ms. Prescott but I bet his price is dear.”


	13. Chapter 13

A full year had passed since Zachary’s disappearance. This year, Rocky Mountain State played “U” at the “U.” The rematch reminded Beth of Zach’s disappearance. She had kind of liked the big guy. Well, she shrugged, guys were dropping out of school and disappearing all the time.

Emily and Beth decided to take a long weekend in the mountains at Beth’s Aunt Judith’s ranch. Beth had talked endlessly about the stunning vistas and the awe-inspiring sunrises and sunsets. After all her studies, Emily thought that she well deserved an out-of-doors weekend with no guys hitting on her but this was really something different, so hard to believe. Boys ridden like horses?

They had a long drive to the secluded valley. The four-lane highway turned into a two-lane country road. They passed a security gate and entered the Valley. Beth turned off the main road and started up the steep, narrow access road to her Aunt’s ranch.

Emily’s head swung left and right as she saw women driving carts and buggies pulled by naked men. She saw women in stylish equestrienne attire riding men as large as football players who wore only their tack, their male paraphernalia on naked display. She saw girls in tee shirts and jeans looking perfectly at ease leading much larger, stronger men around like animals. Somehow, the word “man” did not seem quite appropriate. 

“I don’t know how I let you talk me into this,” Emily pondered as they neared the ranch house. What had once been a distant flight of fantasy was now becoming an immediate and increasingly uncomfortable reality.

“You’ll love it!” said Beth with confidence. “My Aunt Judith will show us a brilliantly good time.” The mountain air is always fresh and the scenery is always beautiful and especially in the autumn. The mounts are well trained. You just must show them that you’re the girl in charge. Bending a large, powerful mount to one’s will is always a thrill.”

The common room of the ranch house had a high ceiling. Opposite the entrance was the reception desk where riders checked in for their stay. A framed, six by five foot, almost rectangular shape hung above the reception desk. If one examined it closely, one might make out its vaguely humanoid outline. To the left was the bar where one could order a glass of wine, a demitasse of cappuccino, or a small snack. The center of the room was open with the chairs and small tables. To the right was a large fireplace, flanked by pictures of mounts and their riders.

Emily studied the framed skin while Beth checked in. She looked once and then again. She swallowed hard. “Is that what I think it is? A human hide?”

“Yep! That’s him.” Beth smiled and pointed out the lines of his arms, buttocks, and legs. “A skin, though, not a hide,” she pointed out. “Horse and cattle have hides. Men have skins.”

Emily stared wide-eyed. The head and male parts were absent - fortunately. The trunk looked wider because of the strip of belly and chest skin on either side of the back.

Beth pointed out the identifying High Gate Stable tattoo and showed Emily the brand that marked his ownership. “That’s Judith’s own brand,” she said with some familial pride. “He was her very first.”

Emily swallowed hard. “I’m just glad I didn’t ask your Aunt to the prom.”

“He stepped in a prairie dog hole and broke his damned leg. Aunt Judith took a tumble but she was unhurt. She had to put the poor creature down.”

Through doors on either side of the reception desk, was the dining room and beyond that the main kitchen area. The remote location offered few options for dining. 

Emily and Beth checked in. Mothers brought their daughters. Once having mastered a powerful mount, a girl was unlikely to fall in love with the first boy to find her clitoris.

Judith had left flowers, a bottle of wine, and a box of candy in their room and a note to call her when they arrived. Emily unpacked while Beth called her Aunt. “She’s on her cell phone. She’ll meet us downstairs in half an hour.

Thirty minutes later, Beth and Emily had unpacked and stood in front of the ranch house. Judith rode up on her treasured racing mount, Wind Song. Judith specialized in steeds, human males large enough to carry a rider on his strong back, not cart pulling pony-boys. The male stood fully six and a half feet tall and weighed more than two hundred fifty pounds. He was harnessed. His arms were cuffed at the wrist and again above the elbows. His wrists secured to his collar with about eight inches of slack. His arm cuffs were linked behind his back, to allow some back and forth motion but keep him from mischief. Judith, a petite woman at five feet three, sat perched on her small saddle between his strong shoulders. No one might doubt who commanded and who obeyed. Her knees slipped under his muscular arms. One hand held his reins, which in turn were connected to his bit and bridle. Her spurs glistened on the heels of her boots.

Emily gawked. The mount was a man, stark naked and blatantly male. Except for a broad stripe of hair that passed front to back over the crown of his head and was tied in back in an especially appropriate “pony tail,” he had been completely depilated. His nose was ringed. Small bells hung from his nipple rings. Thick plates of muscles hung in sharply defined sheets on his large frame. You could pound clothes on his six-pack abs. His ringed cock was fastened to his navel ring, exposing his plump ball sac underneath. 

“Gawd!” Emily was speechless. “Can I pet him or something?”

“Be my guest,” Judith smiled. “He won’t bite!”

Emily studied him with some trepidation.

The mount was nervous too. He chewed nervously on the sturdy bit that filled his mouth. He never knew what strangers might do and prayed mightily that he would avoid his mistress’ displeasure.

He had the strong legs and powerful buttocks needed in a good mount and the broad shoulders to carry his rider with ease. Emily examined the colorful High Gate tattoo that marked his right thigh. Her confidence grew. She felt the smooth skin stretched tightly over his toned muscles. Bolder now, Emily tugged gently at the ring that pierced one of his nipples, then lifted his upper lip to expose his identifying tattoo. “Beth told me about this and I really didn’t believe her!” The mount had held perfectly still. With no concern that others might see her, she studied his male paraphernalia on naked display. She ran her finger down his cock and hefted his heavy ball sac in her palm. “Is there somewhere I can wash my hands before dinner?”

“Have we time to we get Emily up on a mount in the exercise yard tonight? If she checks out, we can go out on the trail bright and early tomorrow.”

“How about tomorrow afternoon,” Emily pleaded. “I really want to sleep in.” She sought desperately for an excuse to delay her adventure.

After dinner, Hannah, an exercise girl, led White Bread into the exercise yard. He was saddled and bridled. Hannah held his nose ring. Though solidly built, he was not as imposing or impressive as Wind Song. “Mount!” she commanded and White Bread dropped to his right knee and planted his left foot, offering his brawny left thigh as a mounting platform. 

With newly awakening courage, Emily stepped closer. She stroked his rough closely clipped bearded cheek. His body was depilated. She patted his solid flank and circled behind him. His ass was impressive. The glans of his circumcised cock was ringed and secured to his navel ring. Wind Song had been circumcised too. Something about White Bread’s exposed ball sac? She was puzzled. Wing Song’s ball sac was ripe and bulging. White Bread’s was different, empty. Her face revealed her confusion.

Hannah chuckled. “Emily, he’s a gelding!”

No hint of understanding dawned in Emily’s eyes.

“A gelding!” Beth repeated. “We took his balls. An intact male is too often lazy, stubborn, quick tempered, and a danger to others and himself.”

Understanding dawned. “I know boys just like that,” Emily quipped.

“This one’s still stubborn and lazy, but he’s no danger to anyone now,” Hannah laughed. “Okay, Emily, grab the pommel in your left hand and step up onto his thigh with your left foot. Yes - now swing our right leg over the saddle and plant your feet in the stirrups.”

Reluctantly, Emily climbed into the saddle, expressing a heavy stream of inventive reservations. Beth and Hannah were impressed with her verbal creativity but patiently encouraged her. This was the reason she had come to the ranch in the first place.

On Hannah’s command, White Bread rose abruptly and for a long second, it seemed as if Emily might fall. Hannah was right behind and helped her get herself positioned securely in the saddle. She placed her tennis-shoed feet into the stirrups. White Bread was an experienced mount and well used to novice riders. Their minimal demands appealed to his innate laziness and lucky for him, the stable served many novices.

White Bread just stood there. Emily didn’t know what to do next – “White Bread, go!” she said in what she thought might be a strong authoritative voice “Go, honey, go! “Whoa! No, that means stop. I mean - go!”

Beth snorted. Several of the women who had gathered around the exercise yard after dinner laughed out loud. “Emily, don’t argue with him, just kick him!”

Emily looked at her in disbelief. She had no spurs. All riders learned without spurs. Beth herself hadn’t worn spurs the day she got up on her first gelding. However, once she had worn them, she felt naked without them. She would never ride without spurs again. No mount feels your spurs and doubts your seriousness.

Hannah led them to the center and directed White Bread to walk around the enclosure in a circle.

Slowly, Emily became more comfortable.

“Ready to ride?” Hannah slapped White Bread on the rump and he was off with a start.

Emily slide backwards. She grabbed the pommel for dear life with both hands but she did not fall. Emily pulled herself forward. White Bread ran. Her look of consternation gradually transformed into a look of wild exhilaration. “Faster, Hannah, faster!”

“Don’t ask me,” Hannah chuckled. “Ask him!” As she spoke, she lashed out with her whip and somewhere White Bread found his rarely called upon reservoir of energy. He shot ahead and Emily whooped in glee.

Promptly, White Bread’s innate laziness returned and he slowed a bit once he thought he might get away with it. Cunningly, he slowed only gradually hoping that he might escape unnoticed. Emily sensed his slowing and kicked him hard. Even with just her tennis shoes, she brought him back to speed.

Both Emily and White Bread were exhausted when Hannah brought him to a stop. He knelt on command and Emily dismounted.

“I walk him ‘til he cools down,” Hannah offered generously. “What time do you guys want to go out tomorrow?”

“In the afternoon,” said Beth, looking regretfully at her friend. “Emily wants to sleep in.”

Emily sighed a deep breath. She patted White Bread’s strong shoulder and neck. “That was fun! Let’s go really early. And let me walk with you.”


	14. Chapter 14

The morning was glorious. After an early breakfast, Beth, Emily, and Hannah walked over the barn in their riding gear. Beth wore a bright white blouse over her white jodhpurs, her mid-calf length leather boots with her roweled spurs that jingled when she walked. Only the most experienced riders could wear such sharp spurs. Her riding gloves were so thin that she could still feel the stubble of a male’s beard. Emily, a novice, wore her jeans and a t-shirt, but today at least she had creditable boots and riding gloves. Hannah wore a black blouse over her black jodhpurs.

“How many mounts does the stable house,” Beth asked trying to remember what things looked like on her last visit.

“We have stalls for 44 ponies. We house about 30 now, I think. Judith wants to build a second stable, further up in the hills away from all this tumult for our personal use. Sometimes, having all these people around doesn’t help training.”

They met two girls –teenagers – leading two saddled and bridled males from the stable by their nose rings. The girls were talking and laughing, obviously excited about their half-day ride up to Red Lake Reservoir, up in the Ortoola Hills. They carried a lunch in their daypacks.

Hannah greeted them. Their enthusiasm was contagious. “You guys have your hobbles, right. We don’t want any trouble.”

One girl reached into her fanny pack and pulled out a short chain. The girls brought their ponies to the “mount” position and climbed into the saddle. 

Hannah smiled and waved them off. “Thanks. Have a great day!”

“You too!” the girl called back. Her heels snapped against her mount’s flanks and he started forward at a trot. 

Emily steeled herself to enter the barn. She covered her nose with her hand, anticipating the disagreeable smell one associated with such places, but the interior was not as unpleasant as she feared. Stalls lined the walls, about 4 feet wide and eight feet deep. The walls between the stalls were about four feet high, but sturdy bars reached the rest of the way to the ceiling. A saddling area was set up in the center of the barn. In the rear was a grooming area.

Emily looked more carefully. An index card was pinned to door with the male’s name and weight. Here was Julius Caesar, Augustus, Titus, Caligula, Claudius, and Nero whom Judith named after her trip to Rome. Some of the males lay on their sides and slept or rested. Some stood in their stalls and stared right back at the visitors.

Some waited impatiently for their morning meal. Some hoped to have a chance to get out of their cramped stalls and run. Some hoped for treats. Others just wanted to be left alone. Each had a lead attached to his nose ring and clipped to a stay set securely in the cinder block wall. All had had their thumbs and index fingers removed. A three-fingered hand wasn’t adequate to disconnect the lead.

Jenny had the duty that morning again. She replaced the slop bucket and a tin of food on a low platform in each stall. As required, the males knelt and lowered their mouths into the food. They were not allowed to use their hands at all.

“Here’s Wind Song,” Beth said, pointing out Judith’s racer. “Isn’t he a beauty?”

“Now, here’s Lucky and Whole Wheat,” There’s your friend White Bread, Emily.” Hannah added.

“Let me see!” said Emily. “Hi, White Bread!” she cooed.

The gelding looked at her quizzically.

Emily pouted. Her recollections of the ride were obviously quite different than his. She had thought that they now had some sort of special bond. “Thanks for the ride anyway. I really wish that I had brought you a treat.”

White Bread made his braying noise and farted. Emily turned away in disgust. “They can’t talk, can they?”

“They find usually find a way to express themselves, though,” Hannah quipped.

Beth and Emily laughed.

“See this one, a beauty,” said Hannah. “Mad Max, a champion. He belongs to Sally Carrington. Sally has brought us more ponies than anyone else. No one can turn a man into a pony, she says, but sometimes there’s just a pony hiding inside, eager to come out.”

“Here, Emily. I think Claudius here will be good for you. He’s good-natured and sure-footed. I’ll ride old Lucky. Beth, Judith thought that you might like Big Boy.”

“Big Boy?” Beth answered, scanning the index cards on the stall doors. “I don’t remember him. Is he new?”


	15. Chapter 15

Saddled and bridled, the three males stood in a line with Claudius on the left, Lucky in the middle, and Big Boy on the right. Their nose leads were secured to the rail. They heard the women talking but could not turn to see them.

From behind, Beth was first impressed with Big Boy’s size. His broad back was meant to carry a saddle, his flanks sleek, and his hips narrow but the brawny muscles of his powerful buttocks and thighs were truly striking. He was tan all over. He hadn’t an ounce of fat on his strong frame. His dark stripe of hair was combed back and tied in an appropriately named ponytail.

“Emily, you’ll ride Claudius.”

Big Boy could hear them but not see them. Riders did not introduce themselves to their mounts. Strangers always made him nervous. He knew Hannah’s voice well. At first, he did not know the others. Then he detected an unfamiliar scent or was it a familiar scent?

“Hi, Claudius,” Emily said.

Big Boy felt a small, warm hand on his broad back. He could not see her. He could not turn his head. His blinkers limited his peripheral vision. 

“Hey, Big Boy,” Beth said softly.

Big Boy noticed something about her voice and come to think of it, he noticed something about the voice of the first woman who spoke too. So much had happened in the last year. Big Boy suddenly remembered her perfume. Suddenly, he remembered her. Beth! Beth from the cheerleading squad. Emily and Beth. He pulled against his restraints and made a hoarse braying sound, all that his surgically altered throat allowed him. Beth, who loved to ride? She had never said what she rode or who she rode. He pulled against his restraints. Would she recognize him? So much had changed. 

Beth took a quick step back before she remembered that the large mount was hobbled and tethered. There was something familiar about him. She unfastened his lead and turned him toward her. She looked at him carefully. He was a huge, well-endowed male and obviously intact. The thumbs and index fingers were amputated from his large hands. The bit and bridle distorted his facial features. The haircut, the nose ring, and the closely clipped facial hair altered his appearance, but Beth looked at him again and saw something familiar. So much had changed!

Memories came streaming back. Beth knew the answer herself already. “Emily, look at Big Boy,” Beth asked. “Look at him carefully.”

Emily looked. “Big Boy sure is big,” she said, pleased with her wit and wondering if she could close her hand around his thick cock.

“Look again! It’s Zachary - Zack, from the University. He disappeared last year after the game against State. He flunked sociology – someone said and dropped out of school.” She examined him, head to toe. Never before had she seen him naked or even imagined him naked. He had the makings of a very fine mount. She stroked his face and reached into her pocket for a sweet. “Sweetie, I wonder how you ended up here?”

Big Boy appealed to her desperately with his eyes. He pleaded wordlessly, urgently. This was all a mistake. Would she tell them and free him?

Beth had taken him to his limits and beyond – just beyond. She had been able to run him as long and hard as she wanted. After a year in the stable, he was a thoroughly conditioned and well-trained mount. He seemed never to tire. Hannah hung well back on Claudius with Emily and Lucky.

Beth was pleased with his effort and let him take the last half mile at an easy walk. Others had pushed their mounts too hard until the loyal creatures’ mighty hearts had burst within their chests and earned the scorn of their peers. Replacing a trained mount was expensive. Some had been fined or even banned from the stable. It wouldn’t do for her to allow her mount to collapse under her.

Drool dribbled around his bit. Breath burned in Big Boy’s chest. Sweat poured from his strong body. The muscles of his brawny legs twitched with fatigue. He would do anything for Beth.

Carrying a skilled rider under the blue sky was the closest he might come to freedom.

The sky was almost dark when they returned to the stable. The day was one to remember. The meadows were aflame with flowers and alive with the chirping of crickets and the songs of birds. Beth had not exaggerated. Emily agreed that the sunset had been awe-inspiring and the mountain vistas unbelievably beautiful. In the barn, the other mounts were already in their stalls when Beth, Hannah, and Emily led in their tired mounts.

Beth dismounted and led him to the grooming stand. She yanked down on his nose ring sharply and bent him at the waist. She clipped his nose ring to the upright. She squatted down and secured his ankles – first the right and then the left. She stood and freed his right wrist from his harness. He lifted it to the crosspiece himself and Beth secured it. She then secured his left wrist. Beth removed his tack – harness, and saddle. Big Boy – Zack - had given her his all. He was still breathing deeply, his heavy chest heaved. He slobbered around his bit. Sweat ran down his muscular abs.

Hannah secured Claudius to the next stand, then secured her own mount, Lucky, who waited patiently for his turn.

Beth took a step back and put her hands on her hips. She studied the large pony. He was secured spread-eagle on the grooming stand. She stroked him gently behind his ear and ran her fingers lightly down his spine from his brawny neck to his tailbone. His skin was sticky with sweat. Beth rested her hand on his brawny buttock – demonstrating both her dominance and a certain affection. She felt a real fondness for him already. She imagined how her brand would look and traced it with her finger. 

They all scream at the touch of the sizzling iron but all knew that males do not feel pain like women and children. A special bond exists between a pony and the woman who places his brand. 

Jenny had come to help Emily with Claudius’ grooming. Hannah was busy with Lucky. 

Hoping that the others wouldn’t think her overly juvenile or sentimental, she held Big Boy’s sweat-sticky head between her gloved hands, stoked his cheeks, and kissed him softly on his sweat-sticky stubbled cheek. “Thanks for a great ride, Zachary!” Only Beth called him Zachary.

Big boy sighed.


	16. Chapter 16

They rode again the following day. Beth was exhilarated. She had raced her Aunt Judith on Big Boy and held her own against Wind Song. She had pushed Big Boy to an early lead and kept him going. Wind Song began his hallmark sprint at the end of the race, and Big Boy fell short by only half a step. Beth put her hand on Big Boy’s neck and felt the sticky wetness of his sweat. He trembled at her touch. He arched his neck and pressed back against her hand. She inhaled his musk. He reeked of leather and honest exertion.

Judith watched her niece fondly. Big Boy had held his own with her Wind Song, fair and square. Well, Judith had held her mount back a bit too long but Beth’s glee was worth more than a step or two greater victory. Eagerly, she shared her news and utter delight blossomed on Beth’s face.

“Really Aunt Judith? Really? “You won’t change your mind, will you?”   


Judith looked on smiling. “No, Beth, he’s yours, a graduation present. You can brand him yourself.”

Beth laughed aloud. “Thanks for a great ride, Big Boy!” She marveled that he was hers. She rode him back to the stable and mounted him on the grooming stand. She secured his nose ring to the upright and his ankles to the stays set in the floor. She freed his right wrist from his harness. He lifted it to the cross piece himself. Then she secured his left wrist. She took a step back to examine her animal. The creature was hers. She saw the marks of her crop and spurs. She had not damaged him too severely. Only experienced riders were allowed to wear spurs. She now felt naked without them. 

She placed her hand on his muscular rump and traced the brand that she would place. The sizzling iron hurt but testosterone-poisoned males did not feel pain like women and children. A boy never forgot the woman who placed his brand. The relationship between a boy and the woman who banded was special.

She ran her fingers lightly between his brawny buttocks, a gesture that both demonstrated her uncontested dominance and communicated her sincere fondness. She took his bulging ball sac in her small hand and squeezed it firmly.

Big Boy jerked sharply away, more from surprise than actual pain. The sturdy grooming stand groaned but his restraints held.

Beth laughed. She removed her hand only after he relaxed. He must become accustomed to her touch. She left him for a moment to retrieve the sponges and bucket to begin his grooming.

Big Boy snorted at the recollection that once he had had “private” parts. He closed his eyes and relished the feel of her hand on his tired body.

Beth smiled to see his arousal.

Sally and Caitlin rode by. Sally rode her champion Max and Caitlin rode Noblesse Oblige. Max was almost as tall as Big Boy. He had the powerful buttocks and strong, wiry calves of a mount trained for speed. “Is this your new mount?” Sally asked. 

Beth stroked Big Boy’s cheek. “This is my Big Boy.”

“Well, he certainly is big.” Sally laughed. “He’s famous for the size of his turds!”

Beth and Caitlin laughed too.

“I’ll race you sometime!”

Beth nodded her agreement. “Tomorrow morning?”

Beth replaced his tack and freed Big Boy from the grooming stand. She frequently talked aloud when she rode Big Boy. Big Boy was a great listener. He never offered facile solutions to difficult problems. He just listened intently. His bit pressed down on his tongue and prevented intelligible speech. Had he tried to intrude on her discussion, she would have been utterly surprised. He always listened carefully, though, and studied her tone of voice. He was ever hungry for her praise and relished her approval. He feared her displeasure more than her spurs or crop. She led him to his stall.

Morning came. Beth stroked his cheek fondly. “Big Boy – Zachary – listen to me! Today is your day - our day. That blond bi-atch thinks that her Max can outrun us. You won’t let them – will you?” 

Big Boy pressed his head back against her soft breasts. Most days, he might expect a sharp jab from the heel of her hand. Today, she ran her finger behind his ear and under his jaw and rested her small hand upon his throat.

Big Boy sighed. He would do her proud.


	17. Chapter 17

The four new males stood in a ragged line, harnessed and hobbled - – a ginger called Red, a black man called Kunta Kinte, naturally, a man called Snake for obvious reasons and one called Bones. Their ankles were hobbled and their wrists secured to the chains that circled their waists. Hannah stood in front with her hands on her hips and frustration on her face. Her whip was coiled at her belt. Eliśka stood behind them, whip in hand. 

Hannah barked a simple command, “kneel.”

They looked at her curiously. Not one moved until Snake felt Eliśka’s lash. Snake turned to face Eliśka’s and his eyes glared his defiance. Hannah uncoiled her whip and quickly regained his attention.

‘Beth, help us out,” Hannah called as Beth trotted by. 

“Sure!” she answered. Big Boy carried her joyfully. They had had a great run. Big Boy’s large body radiated the fierce heat of his rigorous exertion. His bare skin glowed with a sheen of sweat. Beth guided him face the males and brought him to a stop. Her hand on his neck comforted him.

Red, Kunta Kinte, Bones, and Snake now stared at Big Boy. His body carried both the stable tattoo that showed he had completed his training and his owner’s personal mark. Why was he so submissive, they puzzled? They would never allow themselves to be reduced to mere obedient beasts.

Big Boy stared back sadly. He carried his riders proudly and treasured their praise. A good run under the open sky was an escape from his long hours alone in his stall and as near as he came to freedom. It went double when he carried Beth. Her hand had shaken but she had placed his brand cleanly. He enjoyed the feel of her weight in his saddle. He relished her closeness. She was a skilled rider and they moved as one. He liked the sound of her voice and the fragrance of her perfume. He feared her disapproval more than her lash.

He now stood with the trained mounts in the paddock. They wandered about unhobbled. They took the shadiest places on the hottest days and the sunniest places on cooler days. He came eagerly when called. 

New captives had appeared in the stable. They fought their trainers furiously. He wished he might just talk to them and tell them of their folly. Resistance brought only pain. They had so much to learn.

He thought of one pony – one nicknamed Skins. Skins had fought them relentlessly. His body was covered with the marks of their whips. Some wounds were old and almost healed. Others were fresh. He seemed to enjoy pain. He had even succeeded in pushing his bit from his mouth but they had persevered and finally broken even him. They had gelded him and named him Scamp. Now he carried his rider well. His mouth was half-opened with his tongue protruding. A tongue tie pulled his tongue from his mouth and secured it to his bridle. He could not dislodge his bit again.

“This is your future!” Hannah told her charges. “If you are lucky,” she added, “and good enough. Okay, Beth, put him through his paces.” A well-trained pony takes commands only from his rider.

“Kneel!” Big Boy dropped to his knees. This was the position most useful for placing or removing a hobble.

“Mount!” Big Boy raised his left leg and planted his left foot. His brawny left thigh was parallel with the ground and offered a solid mounting platform.

“Up!” Big Boy stood. 

“Big Boy, you’re a good boy.” Beth stroked his cheek. Big Boy savored her touch and basked in her praise.

Hannah glared at her charges. “Big Boy is a well-trained animal. You would do well to follow his example. “

Big Boy basked in her praise. He felt the warmth of Beth’s body and inhaled her scent. She stroked his cheek. Slowly, he bent his head back and made contact with her soft breast. He closed his eyes.

“Glad to help, Hannah.” Beth retorted. A sharp jab from the heel of her hand recalled him from his reverie. His head jerked forward. “Big Boy is still a work in progress,” she sighed, “but he’s mine.

The End


	18. Epilogue

Beth sank into the seat behind the wheel of her SUV. As always, she mourned the passing of the sportier convertibles of her carefree younger days but only briefly. The case of dogfood was safely in the trunk. She glanced to the right and saw her older daughter Sophia sitting beside her. Then she turned her head quickly behind to see her younger daughter Isabella sitting in the back seat, her seatbelt already fastened, sending her friends pictures of herself on her new Pony. Beth marveled daily that she had given birth to such lovely creatures. She admired their energy and enthusiasm. She envied their prospects and could likely forgive them anything.

“Okay, time to go!” The day had been simply brilliant. She and her daughters always enjoyed their time at the stable in the Valley. “Sophia, did you put the dog food in the trunk. Doodle Bug will be sad if we forget her special dinners.”

Sophia growled a wordless affirmative. She was fifteen and seemed always on edge. She was an expert rider – like her mother - and had already earned to right to wear spurs.

“If we have to go potty – go now. And that means you, Isabella. We’ve a very long ride home.” 

“Do we really have to go home now?” Isabella pleaded one last time. “It’s still so early!” 

Believe it or not, Isabella was already twelve years old. Beth could remember when she was her younger daughter’s age. So much had changed. The terror of the Patriarchal Age had slipped back one generation in memory. Beth had grown up in the rubble of the old world. Her Big Boy’s career had begun with a kidnapping. Now boys competed for a coveted place at a riding stable. 

“Remember, dear, school tomorrow? And the stable hands will take very good care of your new pony.” Beth had once been a stable hand herself. Her mother couldn’t afford a pony and the steep boarding fees. She and her friend Caitlin O’Connor worked in the stable and learned to ride. Caitlin had stayed on and become a trainer. Boarding fees were still exorbitant and certainly not because of the hands’ salaries. Some things never change.

Big Boy had been Beth’s first pony – a gift from Aunt Judith. He served her long and well. Both of her daughters had had their first rides on his strong back. Over the years, however, he had slowed a step. Beth remembered the day when Haley had humiliated her on her damned Comet, in right front of her friends, Catherine Langston and Sarah Ponsonby. With work and the birth of her daughters, Beth simply had not had the time to maintain Big Boy’s training. The hands ran him daily but he spent too many lazy hours in his stall or standing around in the paddock. Big Boy was getting in years anyway and the legs go first, they say. Well, Beth bought Galoshes for herself. Galoshes and Big Boy had never gotten along very well. She smiled to recall with equal parts fondness and annoyance how they had competed so fiercely for her attention and her favor.

Beth gave Big Boy to Sophia, her older daughter, then nine years old. Sophia had already ridden Big Boy in the paddock and Caitlin’s old gelding Lucky on the trails. She could manage either handily. Even then, Beth knew that someday Sophia would be an expert rider like her mo_ther._

Gentle and well-mannered as he was, Sophia’s friends’ mothers feared for their daughters and insisted Big Boy be gelded. Intact males are notoriously lazy, short-tempered, and prone to violence. The big guy hadn’t seemed to mind, though honestly, no one had asked his opinion. Beth smiled to herself and put the car in gear.

Three years passed and Sophia learned to guide her large mount with her reins, knees, and heels. Like most, she had been reluctant to use her crop at first but eventually learned that a halfhearted correction was too often ignored or too soon forgotten and too often and too soon need be repeated. She earned the right to her own pony – an intact male, Diamond Dancer. She took real pride in her mastery of the powerful animal. 

Little Isabella, then nine, had known Big Boy her entire life and was pleased to have him as her own mount – then. Now she was twelve and ready for her own Pony.

“I miss Mister Bo already!” Mister Bojangles was Isabella’s new pony. She had grown up riding Big Boy, like her sister and now she was old enough for her own intact male. Caitlin had chosen and trained him especially for her. Isabella had named him herself.

They drove the long access road and saw others out riding their two-legged mounts. The mounts were human males. They were certainly exceptional specimens, larger and stronger than most and thoroughly trained for service. Their male paraphernalia jiggled on naked display. Once upon a time, a male might merely threaten to expose his boy-parts and intimidate a dozen healthy adult women. That time was safely in the past. The mounts, Lucky, Big Boy, Galoshes, Mister Bojangles, Sophia’s ‘Diamond Dancer, and Beth’s new Cappuccino might have once been called “men” but that term was now rarely heard.

They turned east onto the county highway and merged onto the interstate before Isabella broached the dreaded topic.

“We didn’t say “Hi” to Big Boy. I even brought a nice treat for him! Now just where is it?” Isabella asked rhetorically and searched her pockets. After the bland stable diet, anything sweet or salty was treasured. Suddenly, she remembered. She had given it to Mister Bojangles, her new pony! “Can we go back and see Big Boy? Can we? Please?” 

Beth took and deep breath and glanced briefly at her older daughter Sophia. Sophia met her gaze, almost defiantly, but then turned quickly away to stare out the window. Beth checked Isabella in her rearview mirror and then stared straight ahead and gripped the steering wheel tightly. She chose her words very carefully. “Honey, Big Boy doesn’t live at the stable anymore.” Boarding one pony was expensive. The stable gave discounts for geldings and multiple mounts but she was now boarding Big Boy and three intact males.

“Where does he live? Can we visit?”

“Well, sweetie, I found him a nice home on a special farm where he can run and play all he likes – and give little girls rides. We’re so busy with our new ponies and with school, I don’t know when we’ll find the time to visit him.”

Sophia shifted uncomfortably in her seat and fought the urge to turn around and look at her sister. Unable to restrain herself. She fought back tears and didn’t want her younger sister to see her. “Sure, the big stable in the sky!” she blurted out.

“Do you think he misses me?” Isabella asked oblivious to her sister’s bitter sarcasm. 

Beth shot Sophia a malevolent stare. “Oh, I’m certain he misses you, Isabella. Do you like your Mister Bojangles?” Beth sought desperately to change the subject. “He’s a marvelous pony and you look so good up in his saddle.”

Beth had made the phone call and sent Big Boy for his last trip. He was so happy and proud when she rode him out the stable for a last ride on the trails. He seemed confused when she guided him back to the stable so soon. She thought her heart would break He had not gone anywhere in a trailer for some time and she had needed all of her persuasive powers and her switch to coax him up the ramp. She secured him and closed his blinkers. That seemed to calm him. “Big Boy, you’re a good boy,” she had told him that last day. The trailer might have been cleaner but Caitlin had recommended the facility herself. Her daughter Mackenzie had accompanied Lucky on his last journey and put him down herself.

“Isabella, don’t worry about Big Boy. I found him a lovely place at a farm where he can live out his days and run to his heart’s content.” Everyone said it was painless and they don’t feel pain like people anyway. It was better this way, she told herself, but she might have gone with him on his last journey.

Sophia rolled her eyes but said nothing more. “Something in my eye,” she volunteered as she dabbed her eyes with a tissue. She had asked to put Big Boy down herself but Beth thought it would be too much for her daughter

“Can we visit him?” Isabella asked. “Please! No one will ever love him like we do.”

“You’re right, Sophia, no one will ever love him like we love him. But no, dear, we can’t visit him. You’ll be busy with your new pony and with school. He’ll be busy with his new life. Guess what,” she said, her mood brightening. “You can feed old Doodle Bug when we get home.” 


End file.
